The Only Ugly Elf
by Lady Lirimaer Malfoy
Summary: Legolas gets to meet the only only ugly Elf that has ever exsisted **R&R**
1. Vanima

Dear Mellon,  
  
My name is Vanima. It is supposed to mean 'beautiful' in my native language, Elvish. That's right. I am an Elf. However I do not up hold my heritage. I am an ugly Elf. And this is the story of my death.  
  
Neither my parents nor I know how it happened. IT happened on the day of my birth, well over 20,000 years ago today. We don't even know why or what happened. All we know is that I slowly changed from a darling child to one that was deformed, with uneven skin tones, and unnatural scars that contorted my once lovely features.  
  
Since then I have had to live with the shame of being the only ugly Elf ever. As I grew older and closer to the age at which I was expected to start to find a husband, I became more aware of it. I had no friends except the animals I had found. At parties people would whisper about me behind hands and no male Elves came near me.   
  
I began to fall into despair and my mother feared that I would die. So she sent me to Mirkwood, away from my home in Rivendell. She had hoped that the beauty there would cast my mind to other things. And it worked for a little while.  
  
That short time before I saw the Prince. I had been in a small clearing with all of my animals. For me it was love at first sight and his unearthly radiance made me stop where I was. His name was Legolas, and he had deep blue green eyes that I thought could see my soul. His brilliant blonde hair caught and absorbed the sunlight.   
  
Although I knew he saw me naught and would find me repelling if he did, I began to pine after his love. When he started to shower attention on another, I became filled with jealousy and hatred that ate away at my heart. This disturbed me, for no Elf, ugly or not, should become consumed with emotions so like those of evil.   
  
The emotions also ate away at my will to live. The knowledge that Legolas would never love me had destroyed all sense of love for those that I knew cared about me. Like my mother, my father, my animal friends that had followed me to Mirkwood. I would look at them and wonder why they were the only ones who cared.  
  
Slowly I began to fade. It took about a week for those around me to notice. When I was brought to the Healers, they questioned me on my grief. Was it caused by a dead friend ? An unfound wound? A lost love? My looks?  
  
The last they hesitated to ask, for fear of offending me. I only chuckled softly when they asked me. I knew how I looked. That couldn't hurt me now. When they asked what would make me better I thought for a moment. Did I tell them that I want the she-Elf that captivated Legolas so, dead? Or that I want Legolas to love me forever, ugliness and all?  
  
No. I remained silent because either way Legolas would find out about me and that would hurt him. I could never cause harm to a'maelamin taren. Not to my beloved Prince.   
  
I fell in to a welcome unconsciousness. In the blissful sleep that followed, I had dreams of Legolas. I was a beauty, the beauty I was supposed to be. And Legolas loved me.  
  
As I came to, I could detect a presence beside me. Holding my hand. My eyes flew open and I shot straight up, bowing my head so my hair covered my face. It was the Prince that was holding my hand. My Prince. The one I had longed for, for weeks on end.  
  
I threw off my covers and ran out of the door, ignoring all shouts of protest. My Prince had seen my face as I slept. My Prince. My face. The tears coming out of my eyes streamed over now mysteriously smooth skin. When I stopped running I found my self in the forest near the spot where I had first seen Legolas. I still remember the day although I am but a mere spirit now. I collapsed where I stood, unable to go farther.   
  
As I felt my last breaths come, I cried my last tears for a love that I thought could never be. . .  
  
~Vanima 


	2. Legolas

Dear Mellon,  
  
My name is Legolas. I am the Crown Prince of Mirkwood. With a title like that, you probably think that I see all that is happening around me. But you are very wrong. For I once didn't see, or chose not to see, the life of another Elf slowly fade away right before my very eyes.  
  
It was Spring, when she came to Mirkwood. 'She' was the Elf that made history. Her name was Vanima or beautiful in Elvish. Her name belied her looks, though. For she was the one Elf in the whole history of Middle-Earth to be ugly.  
  
Rumor had it that she was from Rivendell, and that she had fallen into a depression that started to kill her. Her mother had sent her to Mirkwood in the hopes that the beauty of my homeland would cheer her up.  
  
She had been in Mirkwood for about a month and still only a few had seen her. She tended to stay in the deep parts of the woods, coming back to the center and leaving it in the darkness of the night and the dusk of early morning.   
  
Once I thought I saw her as I walked the paths that lead to the area where she wandered. She had been standing in a small clearing, surrounded by foxes, birds, rabbits, and even a few hawks. As I passed by I could feel her staring at me. I was amazed that she had come out of hiding.  
  
However, I cared not about what she did, for I had found what I thought to be my true love. A she-Elf named Gloredhel. I showered her with attention. When our relationship became more intimate, I often felt those same eyes on me. Vanima obviously didn't know I felt them burning holes through the back of my head.  
  
From what I gathered from the few who had seen her, I knew that the only feature on her face that was not disfigured was her eyes, which were a deep violet. Some said that if you could see just her pale blonde hair and her eyes, she might be considered pretty.   
  
I often stopped to wonder why I cared so much about what she looked like. Mostly I just shrugged it off. I had a love, A'maelamin Gloredhel.  
  
Then, about 5 or 6 weeks after I started to court Gloredhel, I got a message that my person was requested at the Healers. I knew that it wasn't Gloredhel, or my family that was there, for we had all been eating breakfast together when the summons came.   
  
I went, only because I was curious. When I got there I was surprised to discover that it had been Vanima that needed me. I didn't understand until the head Healer explained that she was fading and had only laughed at their questions as to the reason why. She had fallen in to a deep sleep and called out my name numerous times. They asked that I sit beside her so she would not be deprived of the one presence she wanted at she slipped in to the claws of death.  
  
As I entered her room, I saw that the rumors of her face were true. But the thing that made my heart go out to her was the fact that she started to cry as I sat beside her bed. I held Vanima's hand and whisper sang to her in Elvish all the songs I knew about happiness. While I sang, something seemed to happen to her face. The scars disappeared and all disfiguration smoothed out to leave a flawless face. I knew that her name now described her fully. For she was indeed Vanima, a beautiful she-Elf.  
  
Almost the minute the transformation was complete, Vanima awoke. Her first reaction to me being there was to hide her face with her hair and to start to cry again.  
  
Pulling her hand away, she jumped out of the bed and ran for the door. Many of the Healers tried to stop her, but Vanima made it out and through the door.   
  
I ran after her. I knew that she was going to the clearing where I first saw her. And I did find her there. She was laying on the ground, as if she had just collapsed where she stood. I knelt beside her and brushed the hair away from her face. I could see that, although her last breath had come and gone, tears still coursed down her cheeks.   
  
I carried her back to the center and gave her back to the Healers. I attended her funeral a week later. A week because her mother and father had come.   
  
They gasped when they saw their daughter as a beauty and together we mourned the loss. They told me about her childhood and what a playful spirit she had.  
  
Although she was dead, I began to fall in love with her. And to this day, over 20,000 years later, I still mourn for her. And when I do die, I hope that she will be waiting for me at the entrance of the Grey Havens . . .  
  
~Legolas 


End file.
